


The Morning After

by flawedamythyst



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 02:26:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock changes his mind. Fluff.</p>
<p>Apologies for the unimaginative title.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Morning After

Sherlock woke up to the kind of sunlight that meant London was once again attempting to make it seem like Spring, but had failed at actually providing a temperature warm enough to make it convincing. He blinked up at the ceiling for twenty seven seconds, keeping his mind carefully blank to allow himself to fully wake up before he finally allowed himself to dwell on the fact that he was in John’s bed, with John, and that they had had sex last night.

Despite how his body felt about the situation, this was not a good thing. He had spent a lot of effort over the last few months preventing precisely this thing happening, and then one night of chases, Chinese, a little too much wine, and the breath-taking look of adoration in John’s eyes had ruined it all. Damn.

John shifted in a manner that indicated he was waking up. He snuffled, tightened his grip on Sherlock’s chest and then fell still again, but the quality of his breathing had changed. He was awake, and no doubt expecting some level of interaction related to the actions of last night, and how Sherlock was feeling about them. Or perhaps he was expecting a repeat of those actions.

Which meant that Sherlock needed to say something now, before things got out of hand again and he forgot all the very good reasons why this was not a good idea. Not that he could remember them all in detail right now, not with John’s sleepy warmth pressing against his skin, filling him with a wave of affection that he couldn’t control, but he definitely had some very sound ones or he wouldn’t have been so set against it. He was sure that he’d recall them again once he’d got some distance between himself and John.

“John?” he asked, a little too hesitantly.

“Hmmm?” breathed John in reply, not even bothering to vocalise properly.

Sherlock took a breath and then firmed his voice up to say, “I think you should know that-”

John didn’t let him finish. “If you’re about to tell me you’re married to your work, or something along those lines, could it wait half an hour?” he said in a sleepy mumble. “I’m rather enjoying this and I want to be a bit more awake when I have to hide my disappointment.”

Disappointment. Sherlock disliked disappointing John, because of the way he’d tuck his chin in and give a little nod, as if he should have known all along, but couldn’t help hoping. Sherlock rather liked that John always hoped the best of him, even if he wasn’t very good at living up to it.

John didn’t mean ‘disappointment’ in this case, though. He would be more than disappointed that Sherlock wanted to forget the whole incident; he’d be upset. Probably very upset. Sherlock loathed it when John was upset, properly upset. He shrank in on himself and went all quiet, as if he was trying to make himself disappear. Sherlock couldn’t stand that – John should never disappear, he should always be there, next to Sherlock, right where he belonged.

Well, he could allow John half an hour of this closeness, if he wanted it. Perhaps even longer – it probably wouldn’t matter if he left it an hour. He was rather enjoying this as well and it was very unlikely that they would have it again, once he’d spoken his piece.

“I was merely going to say that I had passed wind, and you might want to keep your head above the covers for a few minutes,” he said, instead of the words that had been balanced on his tongue.

There was a long pause. “You- you farted?” said John. “Jesus Christ, this has to be the most surreal thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I thought it would be the polite thing to warn you,” said Sherlock.

“Sherlock Holmes, in my bed, farting,” said John with as much wonder as if angels had appeared to announce the arrival of peace on earth. “Christ, I didn’t even think you did.”

Well, now he was just being ridiculous. “John, you became rather intimately acquainted with my body last night,” Sherlock pointed out. “You must have noticed that it experiences the same biological processes as almost all other male bodies.” He tried to keep his annoyance over that fact out of his voice, although he wasn’t sure he succeeded. Biological processes were so tedious. Well, most of them - last night hadn’t been tedious, far from it.

“Yeah, but- No, I’m sorry, it’s too much to believe. I bet it doesn’t smell right, it’ll smell of, of roses or formaldehyde or something else special and Sherlockian,” said John, waving a hand vaguely in the air as if he needed to qualify ‘Sherlockian’ with a gesture. “Hang on, I’m going to take a whiff.” He ducked his head under the covers. 

Sherlock was rather surprised to realise that he was close to laughter. There seemed to be a special kind of helpless laughter that only John could provoke in him, and it was threatening to overwhelm him now, and fill him full of dizzy happiness.

“Oh god, no, it definitely smells right,” said John as he re-emerged. “Actually, I think it smells twice as bad as normal people’s – of course you’re an over-achiever in that as well.”

“You’re being really very silly,” said Sherlock, trying to sound reproving.

John just laughed. “Well, yeah. You’re in my bed, farting. You were expecting me to be able to be serious?”

Sherlock joined in his laughter. He hadn’t expected to have so much fun with this part of such an incident, but he rather thought he was enjoying it almost as much as last night. John was all happy and amusing, and clearly enjoying every moment of being curled up against Sherlock. Was that really all it took to make such a wide smile curl across his face?

Perhaps Sherlock needed to rethink this.

John put his arm back around Sherlock and gave him a little squeeze, and an even bigger version of his smile. “You know, it was nice of you to warn a bloke, but I think you should know that you’re pretty much allowed to fart in my bed whenever you want. Especially if you’re naked when you’re doing it.”

“What a tempting offer,” said Sherlock, and thought that in about half an hour, he’d tell John that he was considering a separation from his work. After all, he still couldn’t remember any of his reasons for not giving in to this, but he could think of rather a lot to just lean in close and press a kiss to John’s lips.


End file.
